


The Myth Of Creation

by catness



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catness/pseuds/catness





	The Myth Of Creation

Once upon a time there was a forest. That is, if the word 'forest' applies to a few wooden crosses stuck into dry parched ground in the middle of nowhere. But then, all words mean whatever you want them to mean. Especially if you're the one who came up with them in the first place. 

The word 'time' is also questionable. You have been here before the time had started to drip through the system, and will stay after it runs dry. But then, it's handy to have some means of tracking the number of times you die. Even though this number is irrational and therefore not easily tracked; but you're not an epitome of rationality yourself, and never look for easy ways.

Every self-respecting God is able to do the death-and-resurrection act at least once. It's simple and classy to get assassinated and subsequently dismembered by your brother. Getting nailed to a cross has proven to be rather popular with the population and blossomed into a thriving social network of fans and followers. A more exotic but still feasible approach is descending to the Underworld to get murdered by your sister (siblings are a treasure trove for anyone with a death wish) and hung on a meat hook for as long as it's necessary to freak the worshippers out. An outwardly less dramatic but nevertheless efficient venture is to pierce yourself with your own spear and to spend some quality time hanging on a world tree - this one is commonly referred to as "sacrifice yourself to yourself". So very true. If you want the job to be done properly, you have to do it yourself.

But usually a sacrifice is a one time deal, and then they live happily ever after. Or alternatively, stay happily dead ever after - a low-cost, low-maintenance solution to overpopulation of the soul-matter continuum. Not to mention that remaining dead is safe and easy. But you're more ambitious than that, and never look for easy ways.

The most practical way to tie yourself to a tree, or to a wooden cross if this is the case, is to start with your feet. When the feet are properly secured and hold your weight, go for the knees and thighs. Now your mobility is limited but you still can reach one of the hands, together with the attached arm. Managing the remaining arm could be challenging, but patience is a virtue, because you can just put the limb in place and wait till it gets entwined with creeping weeds. In the worst case it takes no more than a couple of centuries; the inconvenience is negligible when you have the infinity of time at your disposal.

And now when you're all set, securely hanging upside down from a torture appliance growing in a primordial forest outside of the space-time continuum, everything is ready to bring the sacrifice to its full potential. If anyone is an expert on death and rebirth, it is the one who had created this stuff in the first place. But there is always a room for improvement when you experience it yourself again and again, an infinite number of times until there is hardly any distinction anymore between death and birth. The agony of your last breath indicates an infinitesimal break before the torment resumes anew. The liquid fire circles through your blood vessels, burning and restoring them as it goes. Regeneration is a handy feature whenever torture is involved, provided there is a body. As a primarily non-corporeal entity, you endorse the application of mind games as a source of appropriately exquisite pain, but one should never underestimate the convenience of having a soft, squishy, fragile and yet eternally regenerating physical shape that can be abused in so many ways. Burning from the inside is just a start. There's no point in prematurely abandoning something which has been working so well for infinity, but the future possibilities are endless. When you're the one who makes the time flow, you can afford the luxury of lingering in one kind of agony forever before proceeding to the next one.

Boiling blood pours out of your silent mouth and falls into a cauldron below. You don't bother anymore to regenerate your vocal chords as there's nobody around anyway besides a curious serpent who is strangely fascinated with suffering, but snakes have no outer ear and can't appreciate the screaming. In the cauldron, blood continues to bubble and sizzle for a while before leaking out to be devoured by thirsty soil.

Down below, every drop of blood undergoes an interesting transformation. Enveloped by solid matter, it descends further into the continuum and eventually morphs into a humanoid body. Huge wings frantically flapping behind the shoulders, glowing eyes and sharp talons emerge in the intermediate space of chaos and contradictions. In human terms that would be an angel - or a demon, according to the random choice of a skin template. The basic functionality is the same, but humans think in terms of dualities. Memory of pain is still fresh in this creature which is neither here nor there yet, struggling to reconcile the opposites. It pours fire into water, and the flood of fireworks is echoed as distant rumbling on the lower levels. This is the middle ground, where everything is still possible but the choices are not made yet. 

Upon exhausting its primary power supply it goes tumbling down, sinking into the solid world of certainties, shedding feathers and memories. Reshaped, reorganized and reborn, she is unaware of the spark which gets buried even deeper inside her flesh, and she doesn't understand anymore where that insatiable longing to burn comes from.

Many thoughts away, in a dense and somber forest where the perishable but self-renewable foliage weaves into an impenetrable maze, a mortal woman meditates with a skull and a candle. She gazes into the mirror of flame and once again catches the glimpse of a burning body writhing on a cross, and wonders what did he do to deserve such a punishment. That's how they all think - sin vs punishment, victim vs executioner, birth vs death, questions vs answers. You had never cared for dualities, but you had created them anyway because otherwise humans would have collapsed in confusion. The Universe is too big to fit into a drop of blood.

Perhaps it would've been easier to provide them with direct answers. But you never look for easy ways - that would go against your principles. When body is optional and nonessential, principles are all that remains.

Pain is the universal building material. It's versatile and malleable and can be shaped into just about anything - art, success, comfort, enlightenment, inspiration, happiness. Pain is low-cost, low-maintenance and infinitely replenishable. Whenever it starts running out, there's always more where it comes from. It carries the certificate of quality signed in boiling blood and is highly recommended for projects of any complexity on every level of creation, from top to bottom.

A tear runs down your charred cheek - actually it would be up, seeing that you're hanging upside down, but compass directions do not matter in a place outside of time and space. The fire serpent hisses in delight, savoring the bitter snack, and demands more. Not to worry, there's always more where it comes from. There is always another death. 

And there's always another rebirth down below. A dim, twisted, unconscious reflection, but still a part of the whole, of the same blood; a spark longing to become a flame.

Keep the fire burning.


End file.
